Embedded Files
What is the Limit?
What is the Limit?
The limit is pain.
No more friends
to shine in
aloud. It makes
sense out in the
meadow’s cover.
We await snow
& are climbing
the invisible chopper
ladder while music
fades down
as with the moon
come morning.
Which Parts Have You Forgotten?
Which Parts Have You Forgotten?
Eyes wide awake to shun
the night’s grip
or sea to shin to road to
route to rid us of those
small worries, petty
thefts of pride or consolation.
Don’t let me back inside when
I say—as children are waking
& so singing & so climbing.
Song to a Glass of Ice Water
Song to a Glass of Ice Water
By water’s quay edge
to rocks & a crag
the white scouring ocean
& its yellow wolf of wind
on fire wants into
a talk with those
well beyond the fires
thereafter, thereon
thereof, & herein.
Poem to Tomaž Šalamun
Poem to Tomaž Šalamun
Has enough been
said for the water in us?
Steps to mend, another
hot radial saw spinning
my gaze dropped to
the look of the dead
& yet another method to vanquish, yes
to hold dear as a bunny.
To harbor the hinge, harry
the quarter moon to its spot—
To listen with your hands cupped
just over your ears?
You have this one mouth.
You’re from tonight.
Joshua Marie Wilkinson is the author of Swamp Isthmus (a new book of poems from Black Ocean 2013) and The Courier's Archive & Hymnal (a new book of prose from Sidebrow Books 2014). He lives in Tucson, Arizona.
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